#24 – More Trouble – 1982

Written by Russell Burrows:

Then came a definite warning that I was not to be snooping around in those woods. The event left no question in my mind what somebody meant. When I returned to my pickup that day I found all four of my tires cut and flat. That act of vandalism made me fighting mad. I would have a long walk before I could reach a telephone to call for help, and of course it would be expensive and time-consuming.

The telephone was located in a country store about five miles from where my pickup was parked, and what do you think they said to me the minute I stepped into that store?

“Got some kind a trouble, young fella?” asked the walleyed guy.

“Yeah, I have four flat tires,” said I, “and if I catch up with the jerk that did it I’m going to castrate him with a dull knife.”

Well, as it turned out, I didn’t even have to make the call for help. The group of men who always seemed to be hanging around that little store were more than willing to help. They loaded up four brand new tires, a floor jack and tire tools, borrowed the store owner’s repair truck with an air compressor in the back and away we went to do some tire changing. After the repairs were completed, I asked what the damage to my wallet would be. I was told “Nothing. After all,” they said, “it happened in our camp.” There were still no words of warning, such as “You’d better stay out of those woods!” But the next trip in, I really got shot at. This time the bullet was close enough for me to feel its passing. I knew then and there that something was amiss and someone meant business. After picking myself up I proceeded toward the cave entrance. By now, I was keeping a close watch on what was happening around me. I noticed a couple of heads outlined on the hill to the southwest. I did not let on that I had seen them but kept on walking down the creek. As I got closer I began putting on an act, kind of like I might be a little crazy. I was slinging my head from side to side and mumbling to myself, maybe to put them a little off guard.

When I was just below where the heads were, I jerked out my .45, whirled around and let fly about three rounds, at the same time shouting, “Take that you blankity blank – – –”

I shoved the pistol back into its holster and, glancing out from under the brim of my hat, noticed that those who had been watching me were no longer there.

Now I want to be sure that you understand that I was a bit rattled over that close rifle shot before my little crazy act. I got out of there as fast as I could after checking out the cave entrance. I made sure that I exited the area by a different route than that which I normally used. When I saw that all of the good ol’ boys were standing outside the store when I drove by, I knew that they were behind the shooting that had taken place.